


And Now This Ship Is Sinking (I Don't Know What To Do)

by Lilsciencequeen



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Acknowledging Jemma's Trauma, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, F/M, Feels, Panic, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad, Season 2 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:18:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9817811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilsciencequeen/pseuds/Lilsciencequeen
Summary: When things reaching a tipping point for Jemma Simmons, she finds solace and comfort in two people she never suspected she would.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic deals heavily with what happened to Jemma so mentions panic attacks, PTSD and everything else that would be related to what Jemma went through. If this is something that you are not comfortable with, please feel free to skip. To everyone else, thanks for checking out and I hope you enjoy. Title from Don't Need You by Bullet For My Valentine

She knew it was her fault. She had always known it was her fault. But to hear him say it, to have him acknowledge it.

It made it feel real.

It made it real in a sense that she wasn’t just seeing things, imagining things. Making it up.

It made it so very real.

That she was making him worse.

That it was her fault that he was suffering.

That it was her fault that he felt as if he wasn’t good enough.

Because she hadn’t swam fast enough.

She had dragged him into the field.

If she hadn’t, he would be safe. Safe somewhere.

She tried to shake those thoughts out of her head, but they wouldn’t leave her, they kept swimming around her mind, filling her very being.

A sob caught in her throat. But she couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t allow herself to cry.

Not here anyway, not in the corridor. Not in public where anyone could find her. Where anyone could see her falling apart.

She continued making her way down the corridor, hurrying past agents. What she didn’t notice, or what she chose to ignore, she wasn’t really sure at this point, was the worried glances that they cast at her. The whispers they talked in, the whispers that were about her.

“Jemma?” someone asked, a voice that was familiar but she couldn’t place. “Jemma? Are you okay?”

She hurried past, her breath now catching in her throat, becoming more frantic as her thoughts became more and more overpowering. Then she realised. She couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t taking in any oxygen. She was suffocating.

She knew she wouldn’t make it to her room in time, to the privacy of her bunk. So she pushed open the door to the bathroom, locking it behind her and collapsing to the ground, crying and unable to breathe.

***

Once Hunter noticed Jemma pushing past him, tears streaming down her face and her breathing something that resembled hyperventilating, he knew that something was wrong. Something severely wrong. So he followed her, hoping that she was okay and if she wasn’t, he hoped he could get someone that could help her.

“Jemma!” he called out, not too loud so as to upset her further but loud enough so that she could hear him to know that she wasn’t alone. “Jemma, please. You okay? Can you open the door?”

“Hunter.”  A female voice gave him pause for a moment. It wasn’t Jemma however, it was May. She was standing there, wondering what he was doing.

“It’s Jemma,” he said, something pathetic lingering in his voice. “She’s not okay.”

May raised an eyebrow, waiting for some further explanation that Hunter gave her. Saying how Jemma had come past him, face pale, tears streaming down it, her breath catching in her throat. The tell-tale signs of a stereotypical panic attack.

Upon hearing that, May went into action, using her security clearance to override the lock on the door, something that had been put into place for situations like this.

Opening the door, they found Jemma, sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs. She was rocking back and forth, her breathing trembling and her cheeks red and blotchy. “Simmons,” May said, her voice stern but not harsh. She had grown to know the younger agent over the past number of months, and knew what she needed. And right now, she needed someone who wouldn’t coddle her, someone who would show that they were there for her, that they cared for her, in the way she had grown up knowing, in a way that wasn’t alien to her.

Jemma looked up, her eyes full of pain and fear. Her breath was still not there, setting her into more of a panic. May knelt down in front of the younger agent while Hunter had taken guard of the door, making sure that no one would come in, no one would upset Jemma further.

“Do you want to leave?” May asked, her voice low, her eyes soft and friendly and inviting.

Jemma shook her head slowly, after taking a moment to think. “I…” she tried to speak but was unable to, caught in the midst of a panic attack.

“We’re going to get through this,” May said, making the plan up in her head as she went along. “Then we’re going to go to the lounge, just us two and we’re going to relax and figure out the next step. What to do next, does that sound okay?”

It took a number of painfully slow moments but Jemma nodded. The edge of May’s mouth lifted up, but not for long. She took a breath in through her nose, and let it out through her mouth. She reached forward, slowly, and cautiously, scared to cross any lines into territory that Jemma may not be comfortable with, but Jemma let her. Let her take the younger agents wrists in her hands, allowed May to rub her thumbs over them in reassuring circles.

Another breath in.

Another breath out.

The process repeated for a number of minutes until Jemma’s breath finally settled. But she was still crying but May didn’t care. May didn’t mind, she had pulled Jemma out of a panic attack, had helped to reassure her but that was all that mattered.

“Simmons,” May said. “We’re going to go to the lounge now.” Her glance temporary left Jemma, and saw Hunter had left, hopefully to clean the lounge.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

“We’ll be alone,” May reassured but Jemma shook her head, panic rising in her again. May knew she had to change her approach in-case she reversed all of her hard work. “Where do you want to go?”

“My bunk,” her voice low, barely audible.

“Okay,” May agreed. She went to help Jemma up, but Jemma did something unexpected, something that May thought she only did because she now realised just how much she was hurting.

Jemma threw her arms around May’s neck. So May lifted her into her arms, the young agent, so light, so very light, too light, fitted into her arms, resting her head against May’s chest, soft sobs still coming from her.

May brushed a reassuring finger across Jemma’s check, showing the younger agent that she was there for her.

And they left the bathroom, heading towards the bunks. At one point, Skye came up to May, wondering if her friend was okay. But May simply shook her head, and Skye stepped back, knowing better than to push and watched May carry Jemma of somewhere, probably to her bunk.

“Is she okay?” a voice asked from behind. Fitz. Skye spun round, and took in his expression. He looked confused, as if wondering what was wrong with Jemma, wondering what could have possibly made Jemma so upset. But Skye shook her head, knowing what was wrong with Jemma, suspecting what was wrong.

“No,” Skye said, still shaking her head. “No. I don’t think she’s okay.”

They watched May carry Jemma away.

“Is this beca…because of the pod?” Fitz asked, the nerves evident in his voice.

Skye shrugged, because really at this point no one really knew. For so long, Jemma had seemed to have everything together, everyone thought she was okay. That’s why Coulson had sent her into Hydra but now… now they realised just how much they had failed to notice.

Just how much of Jemma’s calmness was a façade.

Just how much they failed her.

***

May took her to the bunk, helped her into the bed. Jemma curled up into a ball, her head resting on May’s lap. “We need to talk,” May said, running her hand reassuringly through Jemma’s hair.

“No,” Jemma said, her voice trying to be strong but failing. And Jemma knew it. She knew that her façade was crumbling down, that everything she had built she carefully was cracking and now shattering. Everyone was seeing the side of her she wanted to keep hidden.

And if Jemma was going to be honest, she didn’t care. Not anymore. She had tried to keep to hidden for so long because what she had suffered, it was nowhere near as bad as what Fitz had went through. Yes, she had nightmares. Yes, she suffered panic attacks. Yes, she couldn’t handle water in large quantities or small spaces but she hadn’t been in a coma. She hadn’t nearly died like he had.

But she wasn’t okay. She wasn’t okay at all. And maybe, maybe that was okay.

Maybe it was okay to fall apart.

“Jemma,” May said, voice both soft and stern at the same time. “We need to talk about what happened.”

“What? That I hurt Fitz. That the reason he’s suffering, that the reason he was being held back was because of me. May,” she said, her voice strained. “I made him worse. Everything I did, to try and help him, to show him that it didn’t matter what happened, that I loved him… It didn’t matter. Because I made him worse. Everything he suffered. It was because of me.”

“No. Jemma. No listen to me. He’s here because of you. He’s alive because of you. It wasn’t you who hurt him. It was Ward.” A pause. “Tomorrow, I’m going to get Andrew here again. To talk to you. And this time, it isn’t optional.”

“No. Please,” Jemma begged, not wanting to go through this again.

“No, Simmons. You don’t have a choice. You’re not okay, and there’s… there’s nothing wrong with that.” A pause. “Years ago, I did something, I did something and it hurt me. I locked everyone out. And it’s not… I don’t want that for you. You shouldn’t have to suffer like me alone. We’re here to help, we’re your family. And we love you Jemma.”

Jemma didn’t reply, just let May’s words sink in, the tears streaming down her face still, and so the woman remained in silence, Jemma softly sobbing and May whispering reassuring murmurs.

***

A knock on the door prompted May to sit up, Jemma was half asleep now, clinging to a stuffed elephant, one that had been a gift from Fitz long ago.

She answered it, and found herself face to face with Hunter, two mugs of tea.

“Fitz said this was her favourite, helped to calm her down. Thought I’d make it.”

May nodded, allowing Hunter in. Upon seeing the mercenary, Jemma woke up then sat up, pulling the blankets round her as Hunter sat on the bed, passing her one mug.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she accepted it, bringing the steaming mug to her lips.

Hunter nodded, taking a drink himself. “I never really had herbal tea myself, was never something we had in the house.”

“Dad drank it all the time,” Jemma said, reminiscing about her childhood. “We used to drink it, and stargaze together. Twice a week. They were the days I looked forward to the most.”

Hunter smiled at that, noticing that May had left the room, probably, _hopefully_ , to find Fitz, to explain what had happened. “Dad… he taught me how to box. Thought it would be useful, and mum… she was never around, not that much anyway. But I was… I was use to it. Somethings you just get use to.”

“I know the feeling,” Jemma whispered, taking another drink. “Mum… mum was a corporate boss. Always in one country or another. I had more birthdays, more Christmases without her than with her. Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know her. She…” Jemma sighed. “But I had dad. Not once did he leave my side when I had surgery.”

After another drink, Hunter asked. “You had surgery?”

Jemma nodded. “Scoliosis. I don’t think mum was even there for me once.” Jemma shook her head. Then changed the topic. “So the tea?”

“What about it?”

Jemma gave a small smile. It didn’t reach her eyes but it was a smile nevertheless. It was the first step in the right direction. And yes, there would be hurdles, there would be things that knocked her back but it was a step in the right direction.

“Do you like it?”

Hunter looked at the tea and then nodded. “It’s nice. We should do this more often. With different tea flavours. What do you think?”

“What do I think of what?”

“Tea and bonding?”

Jemma’s smiled reappeared, the cup pressed to her lips. “I would like that.”

***

It didn’t take long for May to find Fitz, sitting in the lounge, wringing his hands nervously. He stood once he saw her, taking one step forward.

“Is Jemma… is she okay?”

May, her face emotionless, shook her head. “No. She’s not.”

What little colour there had been left in the engineer’s face drained away. “What’s… what’s wrong?”

May thought for a moment, then knew, knew she had to do something that wouldn’t be pleasant but would help in the long run. “Did you ever ask if she were okay? After the pod? Check that she was coping?”

Fitz shook his head. “No,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously with the back of his hand, a nervous tick that he had picked up. “No, there was never any need. She always seemed fine.”

“You’re her best friend, you know her better than anyone.”

The pieces started to click together in Fitz’s mind. Jemma, while everyone thought she was fine, was so very far from it. May was right. He knew Jemma better than anyone, despite the last number of months. He knew in situations like this that Jemma would put on a façade, show that she was okay when she really wasn’t.

And that’s when he realised that Jemma wasn’t okay.

That she was so very far from okay.

He took off, heading towards his bunk, hoping that he wasn’t too late.

***

When he eventually got there, he found Hunter in the bunk with her, two empty cups of tea on the bedside table. Jemma looked at him in surprise. As if wondering why he was in her bunk. Wondering why he was there. He felt his heart twist, now knowing just how much she could be hurting. “Fitz,” she began. “What are you? Why are you here?”

“We need to talk.”

Hunter, looking between the two of them, took this as his moment to leave. He gave a look at Jemma, something passing between them. She nodded, as if there were an unspoken agreement between them and Hunter, in what could only be described as glared at Fitz before he took his leave.

“Fitz, what? What do we need to talk about?”

He sighed. “Everything.”

He sat down on her bed. “Jems, we need to talk about the pod. What happened. Why… why you left.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she objected, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading.

“Jemma,” he met her eyes for the first time during the conversation and he could see the pain etched in them. “I’m not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, but you’re not. You’re not okay. And I want… I want to help.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why? Because I never… I never helped you.”

“Helped me?” Fitz was confused now. “How did you not help me?”

“That’s why I left Fitz,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t making you better. Everything I did, it made you worse. So I thought taking myself out of the… leaving would help you. And it did, everything was working until I got back. Then I just… I made you worse again Fitz.” He shook his head but Jemma continued, shaking her head. “Fitz, everyone can see it. Everyone could see it but only Mack admitted it.”

“He said that to you?”

“Earlier.”

Fitz buried his face in his hands, cursing to himself. “Jems, why didn’t you say? That you were hurting?”

She shrugged. “It didn’t seem important.”

“Why?”

“I wasn’t in a coma,” she began, saying what she had wanted for so long now. “Nothing, nothing bad happened to me.”

“Jemma,” Fitz said, understanding where she was coming from. “It’s okay, it’s okay not to be okay.”

“Fitz, I just…” she sighed, the first tear streaming down her face.

“Hey,” he whispered, moving over so he could pull her into a hug. “Hey, you weren’t making me worse. I just… I wanted to be good enough for you, I thought… I thought you wouldn’t…”

“Thought?” Jemma said, pulling back briefly for a moment so that she could look at him. “Thought what Fitz?”

“I thought you wouldn’t want to work with me. That I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“Oh, Fitz,” she said, as he ran his hand up and down her back in a reassuring manner. “You are and always will be good enough for me, Fitz. Was it because, was it because I finished your sentences?”

Slowly he nodded.

“I did that because, because. You don’t like change Fitz, and I wanted to show, that no matter what had happened, no matter what became of the two of us, we would always be FitzSimmons. We would always be us.”

Realisation dawned on him. He thought that Jemma was doing it because of what had happened. He thought she was trying to finish his sentences because he couldn’t. Not because she wanted to show him that nothing had changed between, to show they were still Fitzsimmons.

“Jems,” he whispered, drawing her into a hug. “I am so so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she answered.

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s not, it’s not okay. I never… we never asked about you.”

And before long, before of them were crying together, letting out the emotions that had been held onto for so long.

***

They spent the rest of the night talking, discussing what had happened. Many tears had been shed by the two scientists, and more apologises were shared. Both shared their side of the story and accepted the misunderstanding that had happened between the two of them.

Because that was in fact what had happened. Miscommunication. Everyone always said they were psychically linked but this proved they weren’t. This proved that sometimes they needed to communicate, that it was important that this happened.

Mistakes had been made on both sides, mistakes they more than happily admitted to.

Morning soon came around and both of them were curled up on the bed together, like so many nights before, nights in the Academy after many long hours of studying.

They were curled up, facing each other, and Fitz was using the side of one finger to stroke Jemma’s cheeks, and she was holding the other hand in hers. “Jemma,” he said.

“Yeah?”

He smiled at her. “What do you think about starting over? I don’t want to push this behind us, to forget about it because…”

“It’s important.”

He nodded. “Exactly. And I don’t… I don’t want. I don’t want this experience, this event… it’s important to us. It’s changed us both, not just me. I want to learn from this.”

“I agree,” Jemma said, fully on board with everything that Fitz had said. “We shouldn’t throw this away. We both made mistakes. But starting over, maybe just as friends to begin with, then maybe something more when we’re both ready… I wouldn’t object.”

“More… something more?” Fitz was confused. In the entire night of conversation, Jemma hadn’t said anything about sharing his feelings.

“Ugh Fitz,” she said, something that he was so used to by this point, complete with the eye roll. “Of course I love you, you stupid genius. I just couldn’t, I couldn’t process my feelings. But I love you. Of course I love you. You’re my best friend. And I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life with you. But first, I want time. I need time to recover, to come to terms with everything, but one night, just the two of us, I wouldn’t object to dinner.”

Fitz smiled at this, understanding where she was coming from. Finding themselves, and recovering from everything that had happened, that was the most important thing at the moment. “So starting over…”

“Sounds perfect.” She sat up, and he mirrored her. “Jemma Simmons,” she said, extending her hand. “Biochemistry.”

“Leopold Fitz,” he said, accepting her outstretched hand. “Engineering.”

**Author's Note:**

> This has been the fic I've been teasing on Instagram all weekend and until the end of time I will argue that the only reason that Jemma finished Fitz's sentences after his coma was because she wanted to show him after all that had happened they were still Fitzsimmons, that nothing had changed. I really hope I did it justice. And if you do want to follow my Instagram, I'm agentsofsuperwholocked. Thanks for checking out. I hope you enjoyed.


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